Susan's diary
by RedherringorR
Summary: It started with Susan writing a diary. Then it evolved. Mary Sue later on. Rated T for some indiscretions, just to be on the safe side.
1. Introduction and introspection

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, only the story.

Description: A minor event which fills Susan with thoughts about past decisions. Mostly introspection for now.

**_Early That Hogswatch_**

A few days ago, while in the market, I met an old woman who insisted to tell me my fortune. I refused politely, and walked away, heading towards a book stand that I noticed. She shouted at me: ''You'll achieve what you thought you wanted!'' I didn't think about it then, all I thought was the book I would buy for Gawain and Twyla. If I only knew what was about to happen.

**_This Hogswatch_**

I can't stop thinking those words. There's a saying in Lancre Nanny Ogg once told me. It's about not giving people what they want, or think they want, but what they need. The fact is that what you want and what you need are two totally different things. Getting what you need might not be what you currently want, but it might turn out to be in the long term. Whilst getting what you want might turn out not to be helpfull at all. Instead, it might be catastrophicall for you and your surroundings. Getting what you need will make you a better person in the long run, and help you survive. Even if you hate it in the process. It's something secure. Tells you that the world is somehow right, though it's not. Reminds you that the world needs cold, calculating bastards, and sometimes you are the one to fill their shoes. And you know what they say, if something doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger.

False hope. Sometimes you need a hug, or a slap, and there is no one to give it to you.

What happens if you don't know what you want? If you're not capable to do what you want, to contain, to control it? What about me?

Author's note: So…good?...bad?...an undefined shade of grey? Shall I continue, or what…? Please review.


	2. It's hard to be death

Disclaimer: Again, I don't own the characters, only the story.

Description: Susan writes down her nightmare on her diary, and tries to rationalize it.

Someone was crying.

_Don't cry._

_I'm not crying, something got in my eyes._

_Okay, if you say so…Are you afraid of me?_

_No, I'm angry._

_Whom with?_

_With me! With this… I am Death, you know._

_I know…Sometimes it's hard to be…death._

Someone hugged her. And suddenly it was so cold… The little girl looked up. No one was there, but still, she felt the cold embracing her.

_Are you really here?_

_I don't know…Are you? And where is ''here'', really?_

_No…You're in my mind…I'm making you up…_

_Does it matter?_

The girl noticed that whoever was answering had a boyish voice. A familiar voice. She couldn't really put her finger on it, though.

_How long have you been here?_

_Oh, all along. I've been alone. It was really tedious…But now, there's you. I can reach you now. And you… let's just say that you'll never be alone again…_

He giggled.

The girl felt a pinch in her heart. And she remembered. The cold embrace around her got tighter, and tighter, and she couldn't breathe.

_You know what happens when you die?_

Someone screamed.

I woke up. I still feel shaken. I keep telling myself it was just a dream. Well, it must have been. I was little again, no more than five. I even felt five, for a while. My parents had told me that I'd have to go to a place far away, and learn. They told me that I would see my grandfather less, because of the school program. It was a good thing, perhaps I should spend some time away from him, they told me. Because he was Death. Being related to Death meant that you were alone. It was the first and the last time I cried. I wonder why I couldn't remember it before… then again, there were a lot of things I didn't remember from my childhood. So it was a dream. But what had he been doing there? He comforted me…or perhaps he enjoyed seeing me cry. And then he tried to kill me. So I'm feeling guilty for killing him, and hence I found a way to make things right in my dream…? That must have been it. I know that this is the case, because Hogswatch is approaching, and it brings back more and more memories of the ''incident''.

I went back to sleep.

I wasn't a child, but the cold was still there. I remembered now.

_You're a monster, _I said_. The poker only kills monsters. You had it coming. From now on, I won't feel guilty for your death. After all, you tried to kill me first. Me, and everyone close to me. You're a monster._

No one answered for a while. Then, Teatime giggled. His giggle was cruel, like a taunting child who had just heard a particularly mean joke.

_That makes two of us, then,_ he said.

And the multiverse echoed… '_'monster''_…

Author's note: If you

a) Like it and want me to continue, review

b) Don't like it and want me to discontinue, review

c) Wonder where could this possibly be heading to, and if I'm out of my mind, review

Yes, it currently is 4'30 in the morning!


	3. Outbreak

Disclaimer: I own nothing, only the introspection.

Description: Things get worse by the day.

The dreams continue, but I have a great difficulty remembering the way to fall asleep. I'm always a child. Every dream depicts a different year. It takes a moment and fills me with remorse, where there wasn't any. It's always there, the voice, reminding me that I'm weak, telling me I'm mostly human, I'm guilty. Since I am not asleep, how come I dream?

Today the lessons were as usual. The classroom was as always, Vincent's hand shooting up at every opportunity, the other children trying to compete, some of them daydreaming... It was a _good_ day, a _normal_ day. Until I used my powers. For educational purposes, of course.

We had a history lesson in Klatch. The children were advanced enough to learn about and judge military practices. General Tacticus was about to declare the beginning of the battle. The scene changed.

I was caring the Sword, climbing up a tooth-shaped tower. A sound of amazement escaped the children's mouths. It was _me_. I looked down. I was no longer wearing my schoolteaching outfit and button boots, nor were my hair in a strict bun anymore. They had gotten loose, coiling and uncoiling angrily. The rest of my outfit was covered by my black cloak. I peered over the edge of the stairwell, and saw the men talking. And then-

No!

We were back in class.

_What was that, Miss Susan?_ , Samuel asked.

_Lesson's over for today children._ , I said. _When you return I expect you to have prepared a critical essay on the campaigns of General Tacticus, according to the book. We will revisit the battle another time. Are we clear?_

_Yes Miss Susan!_ , echoed the classroom. _Happy Hogswatch!_

_You too._ , I answered half-heartedly.

I looked down. I was still wearing the wrong clothes.

I want to make this madness stop. But I don't know how. I also can't remember how to forget things. Memories keep boiling up until they explode in my dreams, in my head, in front of my eyes. It is now, and then it's not.

At least this won't happen again, not in front of the children, for it is the last day of class before the holidays. I keep wondering what caused this ''outbreak'' for lack of a better word. Was it because of my powers? Is this the beginning of something much worse than mere dreams? No matter were I've looked, I could find nothing helpful. Nothing to explain the dreams, the hallucinations, the dead assassin talking to me. Books won't help me now. I can't pretend it's my subconscious. I can't pretend it isn't happening anymore. I have to find out what this is, and fight back.

Author's note: Ok I kept finding mistakes after uploading it, so I reuploaded it a few times. Sorry for the inconvenience. I hope it hasn't gotten tiring. I promise that more and more interesting events will happen from now on. And for them to happen, and the story to get better, you know what to do! (review for those who don't get it :p)


	4. Death's Domain

Disclaimer: Most of the descriptions in this chapter belongs to the rightful owner of the books, Terry Pratchett, characters and settings do too. Only the humble plot is mine.

Description: I think the title is pretty self-explanatory.

* * *

A light breeze came through my hair. Then again, this tends to happen when you are on the back of a horse a hundred feet up in the air. The eerie landscape approached. Binky landed on the lawn in the stable-yard. I got off and exhaled. Death's domain. Again.

My cloak was soaking wet. When I left, a blizzard was raging on-being Hogswatch and all. Here it wasn't really cold. I went to the back of the cottage, where the door was never locked. The usual cats lingering in the kitchen greeted me with disinterested meows. The door with the skulls and bones motif opened, and the hunched figure of an old man entered balancing an unlit cigarette between his teeth. The man's wrinkled face wrinkled further in some form of a surprised (yet jolly), oblique smile.

_Susan!_

_Hello Albert._

_We weren't expecting you._

_He glanced at my wet clothes._

_Here, give me your cloak, I'll dry it for you._

He went out for a while. Then-

_I was ready to have lunch. Have you eaten?_

_Oh no, thank you, I have eaten already._

I wasn't in the mood to have fried anything.

_It is a little late for lunch anyway. , I noted_

_Almost ''Too late''. To what do we own the pleasure?_

_I came to see grandfather. Is he here?_

_Try the study. Do you care for some tea? It'll warm you up._

_Tea would be nice._

As I was drawing near the cottage before, I had played out the conversation in my head. How I'd put it, what he'd tell me. I tried to cover all the possibilities in my mind. But Death is unpredictable.

People would think that the room where Death spends most of his time (in a timeless place like this it becomes a figure of speech) would reek of…well, death. That would be correct if death smelled like Mrs. Gammage (mostly due to the cats)…or curry.

_HELLO SUSAN._

_Hello Grandfather._

_HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?_

_I have been better. How about you?_

_ONLY THE USUAL._

If the usual meant reaping souls, saving the world or causing mayhem and confusion, I did not know.

_HOW IS THE YOUNG MAN? LOBSANG, I BELIEVE IS HIS NAME?_

Young….Technically, yes. But in theory he was as old as Time (a figure of speech doesn't mean it's not true). Or as old as Death himself. Maybe older. I shut out that last thought.

_You know, you don't have to go on with the niceties every time. I have a serious matter to discuss._

_PUNCTUAL, AS ALWAYS._

_

* * *

_The tea had nearly gotten cold._  
_

_A DIMENTIONAL BREACH? I THINK WE SHOULD VISIT THE ROOMS NEXT DOOR AND GET SOME ANSWERS._

_

* * *

_

Author's note: Dun-dun, dun-dun! (Big finale music that's supposed to make you bite your nails). TBC. Please review. The next chapter will not take this long to be published (hopefully).


	5. Mr Te ah tim eh's diary

Disclaimer: I don't own Discworld (God I wish I did though)

Description: Again, pretty self-explanatory.

Death seemed worried. You'd think that a skeleton couldn't seem worried, and you'd be right. That made it all the more worrisome. The room of whispers continued its eternal counting of life.

_Is there something wrong?_ , I asked.

He didn't answer. I took the book from his bony hands. I noticed the letters were whimsical, yet kind of chilly. The kind you'd expect in a horror novel. It was open in a page which read ''… And the darkness lit up. What had just happened? Where was he? He looked around him. There was a garden. He thought that this was a very wrong place to be. He realized he was sitting in a very old, seemingly abandoned bench. He got up. The sound of birds surrounded the air. Not the singing, as much as the sound they produced when they moved their wings. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone familiar, coming out of a door. The door wasn't really there. He hid in the nearest tree. The figures walked towards the bench. Te-ah-tim-eh glimpsed in the room. As he looked, the door disappeared. It didn't really vanish; it was as if it was still there, only a lot less tangible. The figures were talking. He listened carefully. His pale blue eye lit up. Now, he had the knowledge. All he was missing was the power. But there was a way…''. That was it. The rest of the pages were missing. Someone had torn them out.

* * *

Half an hour earlier. Maybe not. The trouble with a timeless place, is that you can't keep track of time. A while before.

Most of the racks of the hourglasses were dusty. Albert's housekeeping skills were still the same, at least. Death of Rats popped from around a corner, and squeeked in a greeting. We looked, and looked. We searched the nearby shelves, in case it was misplaced. Nothing. That didn't put my mind at rest, though. His lifetimer had disappeared that night, as it should have, but that doesn't really give any answers.

_We know, that he faded away. And his hourglass disappeared. But where did he go? What really happened to his lifetimer?_

_LIFETIMERS ONLY COUNT LIFE. WHEN IFE IS LOST, THEY CEASE TO EXIST. SOMETIMES SOULS REINCARNATE. BUT WITH HIM, THIS IS NOT THE CASE._

_Grandfather… What happens when you die?_

_IT IS DIFFERENT FOR EVERYONE. USUALLY. VERY PERSONAL BUISENESS, ANYWAY._

* * *

I turned the pages further behind. Before that, it read:

''_You got it right!__''_

''_OF COURSE''_

''**THE END****''**

_It cannot be! _, I didn't shout exactly. _Grandfather, it cannot be! He died, the end. I killed him. He was dead. And then, this… Does that mean he is still alive?_

_NO. NOT AS SUCH. IT MEANS THAT SOMETHING HAPPENED. AN EVENT INTENSE ENOUGH TO, IN LACK OF BETTER PHRASING, WAKE THE DEAD. BUT HE IS NOT ALIVE._

_Does this mean he is free to roam in this world? In a physical sense? Harm people?_

_IT IS A LITTLE MORE COMPLICATED THAN THAT. BUT HE SEEMS TO BE STUCK SOMEWHERE ELSE._

_That place… _, I said._ I know where that is… Grandfather, I have to go. Now. _

Author's note: It is nearly 4 o'clock in the morning. I know, it took a little longer than I originally thought. Please review! It will make me write faster.


	6. Timeless garden

**Disclaimer****:** I own nothing! Only the twist in the plot. Everything else, characters, settings, lyrics, all belong to their rightful owners!

**Description****:** The title definitely explains a lot!

* * *

_You don't remember my name.  
I don't really care.  
Can we play the game your way?  
Can I really lose control?_

Just once in my life,  
I think it'd be nice,  
Just to lose control, just once,  
With all the pretty flowers in the dust.

Lyrics from "_Lose Control"_ by _Evanescence_

* * *

It was sitting on a blue bud. Waiting. Its wings an undistinguished yellow. I could almost see the fractals from where I was. Then the petals moved. And it flapped its wings.

It was dim. We were in a stationery cupboard. And there was…nougat involved…?

His hand was on my belly, his body rubbing against behind me. Tracing small kissed along my neck. I sighed unwillingly. For a moment there I couldn't even remember my name. I knew the children were inches away, on the other side of the cupboard. I could faintly hear their voices. And didn't even really care. Maybe I didn't want to be in control, just this once. I'm nearly sure I wanted to let go. I always fight with the idea of losing control, of letting go in the back of my head. And I always win. Time stopped. Literally. He did that. I was playing by his rules. Not that I would admit it even to myself. That was then.

This is now.

His hands are on my belly, his body so close, too close. But his hands are cold. I expected them to be warm and reassuring. I was wrong. I feel as if I am forgetting something. Something important. His name. What was it? What was it…..? He is whispering in my ear. But he sounds far away. As if he was never really here. I turn to face him, see if he is with me still. Our eyes meet. His lips go up in a smile. I don't have a care in the world. I hear children's voices from afar. Time stops. I think I did that. This time. But there is something, something important I'm forgetting. I find myself wondering. Why? Why are his hands cold, when I remember them warm? Why are his locks blond when I remember them brown? And why are his eyes…eye…so…merciless? But he smiles. And I don't care. I follow him into the room. Willingly. I play by his rules. Now.

It was only chicory…And the butterfly was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

A figure was approaching. My heart skipped a bit. Then I noticed the shaved head, and the sandals.

_Is the horse yours? , _he asked. _It's chewing the grass. _He made it sound as if it shouldn't have.

_He is Binky. He brought me here._

I Looked at Binky and it stared back with innocent eyes, a patch of grass hanging from his mouth. He put it down slowly.

Wen said: _follow me. _And I did. Sitting on the stone seat we were. There was wine.

_Lobsang is not here. , _he said. _He hasn't been for a while._

_Where is he, then?_

He smiled at me absent-mindedly. _You ask the wrong questions. _, he answered. _But even if you asked the right ones, I don't think I could help you._

_But you know everything!_

_I do. But there are things that you have to learn yourself. _Wen stood up_. Enjoy the perfect moment. Enjoy the wine. I hope you find what you seek, Susan. _There was a bright blue light.

I was left alone to ponder. And with the last sip of wine, it hit me. _When_ was Lobsang?

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter was due a lot earlier, but got delayed due to a lot of vexing things happening to and around me. To give you a clue, I spent the whole Easter at the hospital with my boyfriend (he broke his leg). And the latest vexation is exam period- I'm still going through that. But I wanted to update so that you wouldn't think I'm dead and forget all about me and this fic. So, I'm still here guys! And hopefully by July you'll have a new chapter. That is if you enjoyed this one (wink wink, nudge nudge).


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